


Those Hands Pulled Me [watch the world go by]

by alyyks



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Technology, Families of Choice, Frustrated Crew Members, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, IN SPACE!, Inspired by the Humans are space orcs posts and ideas, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, never underestimate the medics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks
Summary: He had a team, a job in space working for aliens, stars in his eyes. And often, it went bad.And today, well, today looked bad.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Those Hands Pulled Me [watch the world go by]

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by, in part, team as family narratives, some Voltron, some Firefly, and mostly all the "humans are space orcs and get hired by aliens to do things in space" tumblr posts. 
> 
> Maybe one day there will be more. Oh, and Tanaka's full name is totally an alias. 
> 
> Thanks to my enabler and title soundboard antonomasia09

This looked bad. Tanaka couldn’t see much from the floor, just panels of metals made of alloys they still couldn’t name after years in space, the ominous dull glow of lights belonging to a spacecraft on its last leg, and Barend’s head bowed over—actually, Tanaka didn’t want to know what Barend was doing. Tanaka hurt like hell, he had already seen way too much blood that should have never left his body, and quite honestly he had no idea when he had laid down and where exactly in the spacecraft he was. If he raised his head to see what Barend was doing exactly, he was sure it would hurt a lot, lot more. Human brains were assholes like that.

The comm lines to his team were still open, still working. Good construction, that. He could have sworn he had gotten hit in the head during the fight and entry in the spacecraft in a way that should have destroyed both helmet and comm systems.

"I swear by all that is holy that I will leave you here,” Kerrie’s aggravated voice came through, doubled up by proximity and the comms. Oh. So they were in the bridge or the closest equivalent, their pilot at the helm. Good. 

“Fat chance of that happening if we can’t fix this piece of shit,” Mahin answered in the comms, accent clipped with annoyance—and now that Tanaka had known her for more than a couple years on Earth and could hear her emotions in her voice, fear.

“Mahin! No! We need the pyklaks converters!” Cornell’s voice echoed, as if the man had left his helmet somewhere his head was not. Wasn’t the first time, and despite Tanaka’s repeated efforts to get into him that his helmet needed to stay on his head, wouldn’t be the last.

“The converters are no use if we can’t turn the alpha suppressor on!” Mahin’s voice in the comm devolved into muttered swears in half a dozen languages, both Earth-based and not. Tanaka felt something give inside him, and he gritted his teeth, breaths short.

“Less yelling, more fixing for God’s sake!” Kerrie cut them. “We’re sitting ducks here and the raiders are twenty klicks from our position!”

“Don’t make me get up and bleed all over you three,” Tanaka said.

There was a chorus of yells, variations of “Thank God you’re okay!” “Kenji you piece of shit never do that again” and “Good to hear you, boss man.” 

“Don’t even joke about this,” was what Barend said, pressing harder against Tanaka’s side. Tanaka gasped, darkness encroaching on the sides of his vision. “You really need to stop throwing yourself in the path of every danger that gets to us,” the big medic continued. “At least for the sake of my blood pressure.” 

The external comms crackled, bitten off words and unintelligible noises the only thing that came through despite Kerrie’s best efforts. 

“Raiders at ten klicks,” Kerrie updated them. “Still no contact with Mothership.” There were clicking noises coming from the station she seemed to be strapped in.

Tanaka blinked, gaze going from Kerrie to what was ‘up’. It looked like the ceiling of that spacecraft was carved, in swirls and whorls that reminded him of the calligraphy back home. He blinked again. “Can’t promise that,” he answered Barend. It might have been too long for a response.

Barend grunted, stabbed Tanaka with, well, if he had to guess, a painkiller and blood replenisher. It wasn’t Tanaka’s first rodeo.

There was an incoherent noise of triumph in the comms, joined by Kerrie’s doubled voice screaming: “Everyone prepare for take off! Strap in!” 

Barend covered Tanaka with his body, bracing legs and arms on either side on the holds that looked nothing like the elements found aboard a human spacecraft. The roar of the engines was deafening—the sudden Gs from take off were more than what Tanaka’s body could take. 

This really looked bad. He passed out.

——— 

It probably was a bad thing to say that the off-white ceiling of the area the humans called the medbay aboard Mothership was more familiar to Tanaka than the ceiling of his bunk. 

“You really need to stop doing this shit, Kenji,” a familiar voice to his right said. 

Tanaka blinked, noticed the absence of pain, the warmth of the nest-bed and the distinct not-quite-cold sensation of a monitoring cuff on his left arm. When he glanced to the right, he could only see Mahin’s thick dark curls. Her hair still smiled faintly of incense; he had no idea how, her stash had been down to its last stick two earth-years ago. He tried twitching his fingers, but she had to be wrapped around his arm, as he couldn’t move anything. Couldn’t feel much, either, but that wasn’t surprising at the moment.

“How’s everyone?” He asked. The stuff Xoxoa—nicknamed after cocoa, because the Tenn’wa had been introduced to chocolate and had from that moment on developed a love affair with the stuff—used to treat wounds and keep humans under was nothing like anesthesia drugs, didn’t leave anyone feeling like shit hours later, or had the side effect of puking their guts up. It just was weird, like your whole body was disconnected and floating at the same time. 

Probably for the best. Tanaka was in no hurry to figure out in how much pain he was supposed to be. 

“I outta punch your hero face a couple time,” Mahin spat, raising her head to look at him. “Everyone’s fine, we got the ship, the fucking councillor-scientist is over all the moons of the galaxy, and they had to print you _a new half-ribcage_.” She poked him in the face with a sharp finger.

“Ow!” Well, his face was now less floaty and her poking hurt, probably a good sign that the medicine was starting to dissipate. Tanaka was not in any hurry to check which parts of him hurt and which parts did not with or without poking. 

He took a breath in, felt his ribs move. It didn’t feel any different than before, or at least he couldn’t tell the difference between human bones and printed ones. 

Wouldn’t be his first replaced bones, anyway. 

“God really does look on fools and little children,” Kerrie announced as she entered the medbay area. “I really wish you would stop to give Her so much work.” She sat by his feet, the nest-bed molding itself around her. 

“Good to see you too, Kerrie.” 

“You scared us, Tanaka.” 

Mahin poked him again. “If you’re not going to listen to me, listen to her.” 

“I do listen to you!” He inhaled sharply as the exclamation stretched muscles that were not ready for it.

“Until the next time something big and full of teeth comes anywhere close to one of us,” Kerrie said, and she had no right to look sad. She had too-expressive eyes. 

“It’s my job—“

“Bullshit,” Barend’s voice said before any of them could see him, and it was enough to stop them in their tracks. Barend never swore. Cornell still insisted Barend’s Dutch was 80% swearing—with or without translators, neither Tanaka nor Mahin had ever heard it.

“What Barend said,” Cornell agreed, moving from behind Barend and plopping down at the foot of the nest-bed, his back to Kerrie’s.

Barend stayed up, arms crossed and looking at Tanaka with a thunderous expression. 

Tanaka raised his free arm, rubbed his forehead. “I… don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“We don’t want you to say anything,” Cornell poked the cover on Tanaka’s feet. “We want you to listen and not retreat into your rah-rah that’s my job box, ‘kay? That shit’s good only in movies.”

“It’s a fucking intervention, asshole. Because we love you and we can take care of ourselves and you’re not taking care of yourself.” 

Tanaka stared at Mahin’s head—all he could see was her hair, again. Mahin didn’t talk about emotions, never liked to. He… he had to have rattled her, and he felt terrible about that. He had no idea how to feel about hearing her, hearing them, telling him they loved him.

“Is it so surprising?” Kerrie asked, reached and took his hand. Tanaka looked at her, then, still speechless. 

Cornell stretched, moved from his place and around Mahin so that he could put both hands on Tanaka’s face and kiss his forehead. “We love you and care about you and worry about you, doofus.” 

Barend completed the circle, putting his hand on Tanaka’s shoulder. 

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to react or act or do anything right now. But know this: we’re not going anywhere.” 

Tanaka blinked, ignored the ache behind his eyes, the warmth in his chest. He closed his eyes, nodded. 

He was safe, here, and it looked pretty good. 


End file.
